Fistfight at the Wafflehouse
by Ashlala93
Summary: They're in the only place that's open past three a.m... And Daryl's got a lot of explaining to do! AU Daryl Dixon/OC oneshot. Title inspired by Brian Haner's song of the same name. Rated for language and violence.


_Short little oneshot inspired by Brian Haner's song of the same name. Once again, this is what happens when I hit writer's block on__** While It Lasts.**__ I'd really appreciate some feedback on this one, as I feel that writing in first person is really not my strong suit. That being said, I really hope someone likes this, because it was an absolute blast to write!_

**_Please keep in mind, I own nothing but my OC._**

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I felt like shit.

It was almost four in the mornin' on a Saturday, and my ass hadn't seen a bed in three fuckin' days. All I wanted to do at this point was head home and sleep 'til next month, but Merle was havin' none of it.

He'd gotten outta county on Wednesday and come straight by my place, only to find out that my dumb ass had gone and done the unthinkable while he'd been locked up; I'd gone and got married.

Dunno why he was so surprised, to be honest. Casey and I had been goin' steady since her senior year in high school. Lived together since she graduated and her daddy kicked her outta the house. Hell, we shared a two-year-old son. I figured gettin' married seemed to be the most obvious step. Merle figured I'd lost my fuckin' mind.

"See, baby brother?" he'd groused at me, sittin' in my livin' room while we listened to Casey strugglin' to get Adam to come inside outta the mud. "Always told ya you needed me here to stop you from doin' anythin' stupid. I'm locked up eight months and come back to find you livin' here in some sorta domestic fuckin' bliss!"

I didn't know about that. Casey was my woman, and the mother of my son, and I loved 'em both, but 'bliss' wasn't exactly how I'd describe it. I wasn't really sure of the meanin' of the word, but I gotta believe it don't involve screamin' arguments that get the neighbours callin' the cops at two a.m.

But, gutless as always when faced up with my big brother, all I'd done was shrugged.

"S'wrong with gettin' married?" I'd asked. "Hell, woman's stuck around almost ten years now, and we both know puttin' up with a Dixon ain't easy. Figured she deserved to be one of us."

Merle had grudgingly cracked a smile at that. It was true, after all. She was a teen when we'd first met, and her daddy'd been none too pleased about her makin' time with a man five years older than her, but she'd refused to give me up for anything he'd offered; a vacation, a new car, money to go shoppin' with, anythin' he could think of for his little girl in exchange for givin' up Daryl Dixon.

She'd stood firm, told her daddy to shove it and gladly moved in with me a week after she finished high school, puttin' her college plans on hold indefinitely. I felt kinda bad about that, but she'd hear none of it. I'd felt even worse when her daddy died of a massive heart attack three years later without ever havin' spoken another word to his daughter. She'd told me he'd asked for it.

We hadn't had the perfect relationship. Far from it. But neither of us had any doubt in our minds that we were a 'forever' kinda deal. Hell, when I'd gotten shitface drunk on my twenty-fifth birthday and slept with Sheena, the Saturday night bartender down at Duffy's, Casey never even considered leavin' me. Sure, she screamed the fuckin' roof of the trailer down, threw some plates at my head, left me with a black eye for a week and then slept with my best friend Jimmy for revenge, but no one ever mentioned endin' things. Just wasn't in the cards for us.

"Yeah, I suppose so." Merle had admitted. "But shit, boy, you couldn't at least wait 'til I got out? We gotta give ya a damn bachelor party!"

And that was how I found myself sittin' in a corner booth at the local Wafflehouse after three fuckin' days of bar crawlin'. Merle's idea of a bachelor party was apparently to kidnap me in the middle of the fuckin' night and drag me all over the fuckin' county, stoppin' in each town for beer and lap dances.

When he'd first brought it up, the idea of celebratin' my last days of life as a single man (even if they were four months in the rear view mirror by this stage) was kinda appealin'. We didn't really have time for any of that before we'd got hitched. Casey had claimed she didn't want any fanfare, and the idea of pickin' out a dress and cake tastin' and writin' invitations made her sick, so we'd just gone down to City Hall with our little fella and got it over with the day after I proposed. Not much room for anythin' else. Hell, I thought I _deserved_ a fuckin' bachelor party!

But now, after almost a week on no fuckin' sleep, I was regrettin' even gettin' into the car with him. Still, as pissed off as I was at my big brother, I was fuckin' terrified at the prospect of goin' home to a wife who'd most likely been sittin' up, waitin' for me with no word on my whereabouts for the better part of the week, as Merle had confiscated my cell phone. Casey may only be five foot nothin' in the height department, but she was a stick of fuckin' dynamite if I ever saw one. Hell, her temper even scared Merle a little bit.

I jumped a little when a plate of scrambled eggs and a cup of strong black coffee were placed on the table in front of me with a bang. Eyes still kinda hazy, I shot the waitress a grateful smile and kicked Merle's shin under the table, waking his ass up. He'd passed out pretty much the minute his ass had hit the chair.

"Whassamatta?" he slurred, semi-incoherent, glancing around with wild eyes.

I scoffed.

"Foods here, dumbass." I pointed out as I grabbed the ketchup, upending it over my eggs before grabbing a fork and digging in.

Merle sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. I wasn't sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say my big brother was a little more than just hung over. I wasn't stupid; I knew about Merle's drugs. Was none a my business though, 's'long as he kept 'em away from my son.

As I shovelled another forkful of eggs and toast into my mouth, I took a quick glance around. The place was pretty empty. There was a couple of truckers in a booth near the door who'd had about five cups of coffee each in the time since we'd come in. Over in the other corner was a pair of teenagers neckin' over forgotten plates of god-knows-what, and a quick glance lower saw the young guy's hand slip up his girlfriend's too-short skirt.

I smirked behind my hand. Reminded me of me and Casey back in our early days.

A couple of other people were dotted here and there around the place, along with the three waitresses behind the counter. The sun would be up in a couple hours, and I'd have to find a way to convince Merle to take me home. I honestly couldn't take any more of this.

I focused back on my plate, not even flinching when I heard the heavy glass doors fly open with a _bang_.

"Daryl fuckin' Dixon!"

That got my attention, though.

Reluctantly, I glanced up, my blues eyes meetin' a set of furious green ones. I knew that look all too well. It was the one that meant _'you done fucked up big time, Dixon'_, and suddenly, I kinda feared for my life. My wife does _not_fuck around.

"Baby!" I choked out, my voice a couple octaves higher than normal as Merle looked on with amused interest.

"And just where in Christ's fuckin' name have _you_ been all fuckin' week!?"

She was yellin', and people were startin' to stare. I felt myself blush, wishin' the ground would just open up and swallow my sorry ass whole.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are, just takin' off like that!?" she continued, her face almost as red as her hair now. "No fuckin' note, no phone call; You coulda been fuckin' _dead_ for all I knew, you selfish _sonofabitch!_"

With the last word, she hauled back and slapped me hard across the face, the harsh sound of skin on skin ringing through the now silent diner. Everyone was on the edge of their seats, watchin' us.

To Merle's credit, he did at least _try_ to defend me.

"Now, now sweetheart. No need for that, we was just-"

"You shut your fuckin' mouth, Merle Dixon, you no-good, skirt-chasin', drug-fucked piece a shit!" Casey screamed, rounding on him now and leavin' me to nurse the stinging, red, hand-shaped welt on my cheek.

Merle paled and shrank down in his seat. I could only imagine that the poor bastard must've felt about three inches tall. Casey can have that effect on people. You can be the toughest sumbitch in the world; when Casey Dixon turns _that_ look on you, you piss your pants and run for the hills like a scared little bunny.

"What goes on between me and my _husband_ ain't none a your fuckin' concern!" she finished yellin' at my brother before turnin' back to me. "And_you!_"

She brandished her finger at me, eyes flashin' dangerously as she took a step closer. I quickly got up outta my seat, ready to duck if she decided to take a swing.

"You think you can just leave me alone to take care a _your_ fuckin' son while you go off gallivantin' around the place with your dumbass brother!?" she screamed, her eyelid twitchin' a little bit, the way I knew it did when she got mad.

"Baby, c'mon!" I pleaded, backing up as she advanced on me further. "Let's just go home and talk about it, okay? No need for all these people to-"

"You keep your fuckin' mouth shut while I'm talkin' to you, Daryl Dixon!"

She said it so fast it almost sounded like one long word, but I understood her perfectly. I stiffened as my back connected with the wall. I had nowhere to go now.

Quick as a flash, her hand shot out against my chest, holdin' me in place with all her strength as her free hand groped around in the pockets of my jeans, lookin' for any evidence of where I might've been. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed that I had had the presence of mind to give the strip club receipts to Merle.

"Ah-ha!" she cried triumphantly as her fist closed around something stuffed into my back pocket.

She whipped it out with a flourish and held it up in front of my face, which I swear I felt all the colour drain out of in that single moment. Clutched in my wife's hand was a lacy pink thong. _Not_ hers.

"You double-crossin' _asshole!_" she screamed at me, spit flying from her mouth.

I glanced at my brother, appealin' for any kinda help, but he seemed to have frozen in place after the tougue-lashin' his new sister-in-law had delivered.

"Naw baby, it ain't what it looks like! I swear!"

I could feel eyes on me, all of them letting me know they thought I was a lyin' sonofabitch, but honestly, I hadn't touched another girl since the time Casey had beat my ass over Sheena. Truth be told, I wouldn't have the balls to. Crazy woman might actually kill me next time. The panties in my pocket were from a stripper at one of the many clubs Merle and I had stopped at over the past three days. The stacked blonde had thrown 'em off the stage during her routine, and they'd landed pretty much directly in my lap. Afterwards, Merle bought me a lap dance with the same girl, and I'd tried to give them back to her but she had insisted I hang onto them. So, not knowin' what else to do with them in that moment, I'd stuffed 'em into my back pocket and given 'em no more thought since. Until now.

"Don't you fuckin' lie to me, Dixon!" Casey hollered, sweatin' from pure rage now, her mascara starting to run down her cheeks.

I recieved another harsh slap to the face; the other side this time, raising a nice matching welt. Casey was still yellin', but she was so mad now that all her words were startin' to run together, and she was gettin' less and less coherent with each one.

"Sweetheart, c'mon." I admonished, hopin' to get the upper hand now that her composure was startin' to slip. I grabbed her hand and stepped past her, pullin' her around and beginning to lead her to the door. "Let's just go home, okay?"

I heard the furious growl too late. Any sooner and maybe I coulda ducked outta the way, but she managed to wrench her hand from my grasp and thow herself onto my back, her arms wrappin' around my throat and her legs around my waist, completely throwin' my balance off and sendin' us both topplin' to the dirty linoleum floor.

Casey was screechin' and hollerin', tearin' at my hair and hurlin' her tiny fists at every inch of me they could reach as she rolled us over so that she straddled my waist. Under other circumstances in the privacy of our own home, I probably would've found it sexy, but right now I was fuckin' petrified. I brought my arms up over my head as she rained down the blows, and somehow all my squirmin' and fightin' managed to thow her offa me.

I'd like to say I did somethin' a lot more macho than curl up into the fetal position and roll under a damn table, but I'd be lyin'. I'd like to see any man be on the receivin' end of my wife's temper and _not_ come away from the whole experience feelin' a little emascualted. Ain't possible, as far as I'm concerned.

Under the table seemed like my safest bet while she regained her bearings, but she followed me pretty fast. She stood up and marched on over, those red high heels I like so much clickin' ominously against the checkered linoleum before she came to a stop in front of the table I'd taken refuge under. She bent down, curtain of red hair swingin' into her face as she shot me a look that said _'I ain't done with you yet'_. I knew her denim skirt would be ridin' up, and normally I'd be pissed off that she was givin' the whole damn diner, my brother included, a free show, but it was fair to say I had other shit on my mind right at that particular moment.

With a grin I could only describe as pure fuckin' evil, she dropped to her knees and grabbed me around the ankle, pullin' me out from under that table with strength I ain't never seen from her before, and I never wanna see again. Next thing I know, I'm kickin' and flailin' as she climbs on top of me again, fists still flyin'. I got one of her knees on my throat and I'm strugglin' to breathe. I can almost feel my face turnin' purple while she screams an swears at me. She grips my hair tight in one hand, holdin' me to the floor while her other one gropes around up on the table, comin' up with an empty Wafflehouse coffee mug.

My eyes go wide. I know what's comin'.

"Baby, no!" I cry out in vain. "Stop!"

Too late. The coffee cup connects with my face with a sickenin' crack, and I ain't sure if it was the cup or my fuckin' jawbone. I managed to throw her off again and scrambled away, spittin' out a tooth onto the floor as I went, hopin' to god it wasn't a front one.

I glanced over at where Casey had landed in a heap, chest heavin', lipstick smudged, purple halter top askew. She quickly pulled herself up off the floor and started advancin' on me again. As she got closer, I noticed the tears minglin' with the eye make-up runnin' down her cheeks, and another stab of guilt settled deep in my stomach. She'd probably been scared when I hadn't come home the past few nights. I'd never meant to worry her.

But now wasn't the time to be makin' apologies. No point even tryin' when she's so fuckin' mad she can't see straight. Right now, my only concern was avoidin' a slow, painful, embarrassingly public death at the hands of my beautiful, bad-tempered wife.

Before I even had time to gather myself, she was on top of me once more. Her shoes must've come off at some point, because I can no longer hear them clicking. I tried to put up a little more of a fight. Now, don't get me wrong here; Casey could beat my ass black and blue, and I'd still never raise a hand to her. I just ain't that guy. But still, I couldn't just lay back and take a beatin'.

I grasped her shoulders and pushed her back, and she struggled against me, tryin' to wriggle her way outta my grip so she could wreak some more havoc on my ass. I was grabbin' anywhere I could just to try and hold her still enough to talk some sense into her, but she was havin' none of it. When I grabbed a hold of her shirt (which I remembered I'd bought for her last Christmas), there was an audible rip, and the garment fell away. My cheeks burned when I realised she wasn't wearin' a bra and, suddenly, I remembered the diner full of onlookers and my perverted brother.

Quickly, while she was caught off guard, I rolled her under me, doin' my best to keep her modesty covered. That seemed to bring her back to the present, for she started squirmin' and kickin', screamin' for me to let her up.

"You get your ass offa me Daryl Dixon! This ain't fuckin' over!"

It was as far as I was concerned. I didn't give a shit how fuckin' mad she was; no way in hell was I lettin' anyone else get a look at what was mine. I shifted my weight on top of her, and she moved with me, counteractin' what I'd been tryin' to do.

"Goddamn it, Casey!" I growled, finally startin' to get angry in return. "Calm the fuck down."

She scowled up at me and, before I could stop her, she sank her teeth into my shoulder. I felt my skin break and let out a loud yelp, quickly leapin' offa her without thinkin'. She rolled away and, quick as a flash, was back up on her feet. Still unashamedly topless, she collected her shoes, seemingly unaware of the way everyone in the damn place seemed to be holdin' their damn breath all of a sudden. My wife had a nice rack, and she wasn't shy about it.

Hoppin' on one foot at a time, she slid back into them high heels and marched right on over to me where I sat with my back against the counter, blood leakin' from the bite on my shoulder and tricklin' down my face from where she'd hit me with the coffee cup. I struggled to pull myself up off the floor, still leanin' my ass against the counter behind me as I faced her.

She took a step back, shot me the most contemptuous look I've ever seen in my life and promptly kicked me sqaure in the fuckin' nuts.

I felt my face go red as the pain radiated up into my stomach. I clutched my jewels as my knees buckled and I dropped back to the floor, gasping and wheezing and in more pain than I could ever fuckin' remember. She spit on the ground at my feet and whirled around, stomping outta the diner leaving a stunned silence in her wake. I heard an engine start, and then the screech of tires leavin' the parking lot.

I raised my head slowly as the pain started to subside, my eyes seeking Merle, who was still sittin' in our booth lookin' for all the world like a stunned fuckin' mullet. I scoffed, and squirmed uncomfortably as I pulled myself to my feet, usin' the counter for support. Breathin' heavy, I glanced around to find every eye in the place fixed on me.

"The hell are y'all gawkin' at!?" I demanded, frowning, and everyone immediately went back to their food

I heaved a mighty sigh as my gaze dropped back to the floor, where I spotted the torn remnants of that purple halter top I'd liked so much. With a couple of painful steps, I crossed over and bent to retrieve it, stuffin' the useless material into my back pocket before turnin' around and walkin' over to my big brother.

"Come on, bro." I sighed resignedly. "You gotta take me home. I gotta lotta ass-kissin' to do."


End file.
